Box Clever
by Draft Distro
Summary: A young Doctor who fan discovers fandom is full of surprises.


**Box Clever**

by Daniel T. Foster

Crich Tramway VGE

Matlock, UK

June, 2011

Timothy Lancaster lived in Matlock, England in a very normal house, attended Highlands secondary school, and was really just your average modern 11-year-old English boy. Like many young men his age, living in his particular part of the country, he was bored stiff. He played with the other boys, and even occasionally with the girls, but only on occasion did most of the other want to pretend what he wanted to pretend: he always wanted to play _Doctor Who_.

Tim had been watching _Doctor Who_ since the newer version debuted when he was five. Tim's father Roland told Tim he had watched the show when he was younger, but times had changed and he had neither time nor inclination for such nonsense. Tim however, was allowed to watch, and on occasion he would notice his father glancing at the telly from his work desk, usually when Billie Piper was on screen.

His father did take him somewhere wonderful for his eighth birthday. Not too far from Matlock, maybe a ten minute drive, was the Crich Village Park. This was a little historical park, featuring mostly trams from all over the UK. It was good to be out with his father, but none of this was all that interesting to the eight year old Tim. His father kept smiling though and telling him to wait, the best was yet to come.

They came to the tram terminus, and stepped off. Tim was a bit tired of riding the tram, something he did in town with mother all the time. He was glad to take a moment to walk, and perhaps find something to eat. His father pointed at something near the front of an old building the tram conductor had told them was moved from Derby, brick by brick (which may have taken as long as this day was turning out to be for the young man). He followed his father's hand to see…

The TARDIS.

He ran right to it; there it was, nine feet tall and blue, the words "Police Box" emblazoned on the side. He later learned this was the last Mark 2 police box in England, and visited by _Doctor Who _fans from all over the world. At first there was a bit of disappointment to not see David Tennant or Catherine Tate popping out of it (the Doctor and his Companion at the time; though Tennant would come to visit later) , but it was so real, so solid. For Christmas each year, he would get a season pass to the park, and liked to just go look…but his parents were very busy so they could not take him as often as he would have liked. And again, his father's loyalty to the old show was left behind in his childhood, despite sharing this wonderful discovery with his son.

As Tim grew he was able to find older episodes from his local library which he would sometimes fast forward through. They did seem old, and he could see where it would have been popular when the world was slower, but this was the 21st Century, and the more fast paced adventures of Eccleston, Tennant, and Smith were far more appealing. He studied the old episodes though, using his allowance or birthdays to get episode guides and books, or the occasional toy sonic screwdriver. The show was not unpopular among his friends, but at this point they were far more intrigued by playing football than chasing Daleks or being chased by Cybermen; little Sherry Jensen would on occasion agree to be his companion for a few hours. Lately though she had insisted on being River Song, and there was a lot more hand-holding and a lot less running than he was used to in his pretends.

Beyond that frightening yet intriguing development though, life was pretty much the same thing each day. Get dressed, go to school, get lessons, come home, watch telly, and repeat. Nothing happened in Matlock. When his parents had friends over, they would talk about the PM, or perhaps a bit about the War, but change the subject when they noticed little ears listening in. Then it was back to the business his father was in, mostly the discussion of shipping numbers and goods.

When Tim turned eleven though, he received a new privilege; His mother gave him his own tram pass. He was eleven after all, and now he was not at the mercy of the occasional drive his father would take in the family car. He could visit Crich Village whenever he wanted. Twice a month he would tell his mother where he was going, and then trundle away to see the police box in Crich. When life was boring, as it often was, he could go there and look at the box, waiting for the door to open at any moment and someone with a bow-tie to leap out... or in trainers, or with a black jacket, or even with an extra long scarf or a celery brooch.

It was Tim's third trip after his 11th birthday when he first noticed the man in a blazer not unlike that of the lead character of another show he tried once called "The Prisoner." The young man at the station wore a black blazer with the lapel outlined in white, a black and white checkered turtleneck shirt, white trousers, and back and white spectator shoes. A black thin-brimmed fedora sat cocked back on his head. On his wide lapel was a gold-colored brooch in the shape of a question mark. He wondered around, seemingly interacting with other fans of _Doctor Who_: taking their pictures in front of the ersatz time machine, loudly guffawing at their favorite moments...Tim realized he was what the Americans on the message boards called a "fanboy." The stranger looked to be in his early 20s, and reminded Tim of an actor he saw pictures of when finding old _Who_ episodes in the library, the star of the film _A Clockwork Orange; _Tim's mom expressly forbade any viewing of that film.

Tim sat on a bench, eating from a bag of jelly babies and observing the Box, musing in his mind about where the follow on series for Matt Smith would go, and what revelations about River Song would mean to Sherry Jensen. Suddenly, next to him was the young man asking a simple question.

"May I have a jelly baby? Like most Whovians, they're my favorite." Tim had been warned at school not to take candy from strangers, but never what to do about giving a stranger some. He offered the bag.

"They're quite good. Not much to them really; some flavor and gelatin, but that's kind of like people, isn't it?" The stranger spoke in a fast but educated manner, well enunciated in the Queen's tongue.

"You're here a lot," Tim said, following his observation with another piece of his candy.

"As are you as of late. I assume you're here for the Box?"

"Yeah. I like to pretend it's..."

"Don't we all?" The stranger said. "We come from miles, hundreds or thousands even. That couple? Came from Seattle, Washington in America. Those? Brisbane. I think I even saw a Japanese couple...

"So why are you here?" It took Tim a moment to realize that was a question directed toward him.

"Oh me? I just come to think. There's not much to do in Matlock, so I like to come here and pretend. Though... usually there's too many people around. So I just look at it and remember old episodes."

"Indeed," the stranger said, "not a poor way to wile away time... if, that is, you're really not going to do anything with it. Time that is."

"What's there to do? And besides, you're always here in those clothes...what are you supposed to be?" Tim asked.

"Me? Oh, this is brilliant; you'll love this. I'm the 14th Doctor!"

Tim grimaced. "There's only 11 Doctors..." The man interrupted Tim to defend his decision.

"So far," he said, a little too wisely. Tim was ready.

"...AND, The Doctor only had 12 regenerations. So there can only be 13 Doctors."

"Really? How many regenerations has the Master had? The Time Lords gave him a whole new set. What about when the 11th Doctor tells Clyde he had 507 regenerations?"

"Doctor was _teasing_ with Clyde," Tim said, with the emphasis only a boy sure of himself could give. "And we know the Doctor will become the Valeyard between his 12th and 13th versions." He smiled in triumph.

"Oh, everyone brings that up, and that's only a maybe. We're not watching _Star Trek;_ this is about a time traveling genius who can change history if he really wants. Continuity doesn't have to stick." Tim thought for a moment.

"You're not going to tell me I should look for the Shalka too?" Tim had brought up a cartoon now considered unofficial the BBC produced in 2003. The young stranger's eyes flared for a moment, then he laughed.

"Oh, you're good! You're very good. Do you go to the conventions?"

"No, me Da's usually busy with work, and mum doesn't much like the show. I don't think my parents have been to London since I was around three or so. I did get to see David Tennant come through here for some publicity shots once though."

The young man grinned. "He's always good to his fans. What's your name, by the way?"

"Tim," Tim said, putting out his hand. The stranger shook it.

"I go by Bill. It's nice to meet you. So what's all this nonsense about having nothing to do?"

Tim countered. "So what's all this nonsense about a 14th Doctor?" Bill laughed again. Tim was beginning to like him, despite his over-exuberant fanishness.

"I asked first; is there really so little to do around here you just come stare at a blue box?"

"Well, it's dull," Tim explained. "That's really why I watch _Doctor Who. _ It's a life full of adventure. When I come here I can wish my life was full of adventure."

Bill grinned his half grin again. "Let me ask you something; what is the show really about?"

"_Doctor Who_?"

"Of course. We're not talking about _Secret Diary of a Call Girl_."

"My parents won't let me watch that," Tim said.

"Mine either," Bill replied, which Tim found funny. Bill continued. "Really though, what's the Doctor's show really about. You don't think it's about monsters and cute companions do you?"

Tim thought for a minute. "No. I used to, but I got older and realized there was more behind it, isn't there? It's like that Craig Ferguson video I saw on You Tube, where he say it's about the idea that intellect and romance beat brute force and cynicism."

"Ah, wise man that Craig Ferguson. Think about this: how old is the Doctor?"

"Have you seen all of series 6 so far? Can I spoil the first episode? The Doctor who meets that astronaut is 1102 years old." Tim was waiting patiently for the second half of series 6 to explain what the heck had really happened in the Utah desert.

"Acceptable answer. So think: the show's been on for 48 years nearly. Even assuming we saw everything he did for those 48 years, that's 1052 unseen years across the 11 Doctors. What did he do then?' Bill asked.

"One thousand fifty-four," Tim said, correcting Bill's calculation.

"Math isn't my strong point. Doesn't matter. What did the Doctor do in those 1054 years?"

"Well, he had more adventures. Like the Time War, and all the stuff with River."

"Yes, but you don't think he had any normal days? The occasional lounge around the TARDIS, eat Jelly Babies, and watch football days?"

"Well, probably, but it was between adventures," Tim said.

"And now, Master Tim, you bring me to my point. His adventure is _life_. The Doctor loves living! Yes, he flies around all of time and space, but it's not the adventure that drives him, it's the possibility, the _hope _for an adventure. That's why he always has human companions: Sontarans just want to make war. Daleks just want to exterminate. Slitheen just want to make money. Humans do all those things, _and _ all the good things! The human race is unpredictable and special, and the Doctor loves it more than anything. To him a day when nothing happens is as much a surprise as an Auton invasion. That's the adventure, simply not knowing what's next; when all of time and space lie before you, that hope for the unexpected—exciting or dull—is the best thing there can be.

"Humans, Tim. Humans have that right here all the time. Hope, romance, intellect; and also despair, cynicism and brutishness. Your life; it's what the Doctor craves."

Tim was unconvinced. "But there's no adventure for us! Everything is the same, day after day. We all become like our parents, and the smart ones among us watch adulthood come on us like the Vashta Nerada and can't do anything about it."

"Not at all, Tim. Every day, all around us there are surprise wonders. The human race has gone from primates hiding in caves to the moon in the blink of the universe's eye. Mistakes along the way? Surely. But also so many wonderful people whose lives have meant so much. Look how much you mean to your parents. And where would you be without them? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Tim looked away. "Not really, but when I play The Doctor, there's a girl who likes to be River..."

Bill smiled. "A girlfriend soon enough then. At least you can hope. Like a billion billion people for a million years you have hopes and wishes, and surprises, and tears, and horrors, and it's a huge beautiful tapestry made up of every man and woman and a million generations yet to come. And no one knows what wonders await...that's the adventure, and every one of us is part of it.

"Do you think when William Hartnell first stepped into a fake wooden police box fifty years ago any one of those writers thought a half century later fans like you and me would still be talking about it? Much less that they would have to create something like regeneration to keep their silly little show going? In 1976 when they said there were twelve regenerations: the show would never last long enough to matter. When it went off with Sylvester McCoy—a highly underrated Doctor if you ask me—no one dreamed it would be back. Yet it is. Why?

"Hope. _Doctor Who_ is full of hope and wonder and surprise and people love that, because those things are the best things in life. It's what The Doctor is about, and we see that reflected in him and can make it so. These people who came here from all over to see an English relic; they didn't come here because of rubber alien suits and quarries. They came here because of what the show _means_ and how it reflects us.

"Why do I dress like the 14th Doctor? Why did I make this myself?" From his blazer Bill pulled a cylindrical piece of metal and plastic with a fairly cheap blinking light on the end.

"That doesn't look like the sonic screwdriver," Tim said.

"Oh, and you're an expert on the 14th Doctor? The idea of the 14th Doctor is hope; that there will be a way for the Doctor to keep going, and for him—after Eccleston, Tennant, Smith, and whoever plays 12 and 13—for him to keep showing us how to be better, to find hope. You are here, on your own on a beautiful day, talking to a stranger in a silly outfit about a fictional character, and despite your piercing observations and questions, you seem to be having a great time. You're going to go home in a little while to a Dad who loves you and you can tell about what happened today, and a Mum who allows you and trusts you to come here. Then, at some point this week you are going to meet your own little River, and maybe your first kiss will be with her...and maybe not. It's the mystery that keeps us going, and it's the mystery that makes every day of every life an adventure. The Doctor just reminds us of that."

Bill finished his little rant, and replaced his homemade sonic screwdriver into his inner pocket. Tim realized he was looking at Bill with fascination, and on Tim's face was a huge smile.

"You really think she might kiss me?" Bill laughed out loud.

"I can't wait for you to find out, Tim. Are you tired of me bothering you yet?"

"Well, I've been here for a while, I should probably catch the tram home. I'd like to go see Mum and Da' I think. It's been a good day, huh?"

Bill smiled and tussled Tim's hair. "Most days, Tim. Most days are good days, we just have to bother to notice." He adjusted his coat, and pulled his hat forward over his blond hair.

"Been here for a while myself. I think it's time to find some new adventures, eh?" Bill got up and started to walk away, then turned around as if he had forgotten something.

"Oh wait! Tim, here, this is for you." From his pocket he produced a small object, and dropped it into Tim's outstretched hand. It was a clip on bow tie.

"I tried working it into this suit, but it just wasn't keen. But that doesn't change the fact bow ties are cool."

"Thank you Bill. I hope your 14th Doctor catches on." Bill and Tim shook hands. Tim turned his back, and walked toward the gate to catch the outside tram home. He heard Bill call out to him as he walked.

"Tell your Da' I said hello! I miss the time Roland and I used to spend together, and wish we could do it again." Tim waved, but went back toward the gate, wondering what Bill was talking about.

How did Bill know Tim's father's name?

Then Tim heard the sound. A metallic whooping sound, high pitched and bass all at once, pulsing. He heard exclamations from the tourists. He turned and saw a crowd was gathering, running toward the police box. He ran too...

...but it was not there. As Tim broke through to the front, there was only a square concrete pad where the phone box had been, and in the air hung the echo of a fading whine.

"That man!" Someone said, "In the hat, he went in there and it was gone!"

Tim ran to the square and looked to a sky in a world he realized he had only today begun to understand.

"Doctor, come back! Come back! I wish to go with you!"

There was no answer. Tim finally began walking toward the tram again, walking through the spectators whom security had already began to question about this little prank. Tim was at first a bit sad, Then he realized...

He had no idea what could happen tomorrow, not if this could happen today. He slipped the bow tie onto the collar of his shirt and spoke under his breath.

"Good bye, Doctor. I hope to see you again..."

The End


End file.
